He was in his shirt sleeves, with his collar loose and his hair over his forehead, bending over a garden table. A thousand-lira note was rolled up between his fingers and he was sniffing up a line of white powder with solemn attention.

He did not see me, and Stefano, not noticing David either, led me past. We pushed our way through a group of several men and two intoxicated-looking girls. I tried not to care that people were staring at the shortness of my skirt as I sat on a cushion on the grass. Stefano took a twist of paper from his pocket. “If you are ready for a new experience, Sarah, why not try this? It will do your headache good.”

He opened the paper. Inside was not the white powder, but something that looked like tobacco. “But I don’t smoke,” I said.

“Then now is a good time to start,” he said patiently. He began to roll some of the substance into a cigarette paper. As I watched, my heart leapt. It was a cigarette paper just like the one that had led me to Aidan. I still had that paper, folded very small, in the corner of my jewellery case. “This is marijuana, or cannabis,” Stefano was saying. “It has several names, as it is smoked all over the world.” He held the cigarette out to me. “Here, try it. Take it in, hold it and breathe out slowly.”

I took the cigarette and put it between my lips, and Stefano lit it. When I drew upon it, my mouth filled with foul-tasting smoke. “Ugh!” I cried, spitting and coughing.

Stefano laughed. He was handing another of the marijuana cigarettes to the girl with the slipped-down headdress. “If your mother could see you now!”

When his attention was elsewhere, I let the cigarette burn down in my hand, only putting it to my lips when he was looking. David could not see me as I had positioned myself deep in shadow, but all the time I watched him from the corner of my eye. He could not sit there all night, I reasoned. Something had to happen.

At last David stood up. As he walked, swaying a little, towards the house, I leaned towards Stefano. “This is not helping my headache,” I murmured. “In fact, it’s getting worse. I simply must go and get a glass of water. Don’t worry, I can go by myself. I won’t be long.”

I followed David across the courtyard, up the steps and into the now-deserted ballroom. He disappeared for a few minutes to the lavatory. I waited, leaning against one of the stripped tables, my heart like a stone, my head thumping. When he came back he still did not see me, but sat down on the far side of the room, put his head back, blocked each nostril in turn and inhaled deeply. I approached, my soft-soled party shoes silent on the floor.

“David?” I said, as loudly as my shortage of breath would allow. “Is that really you?”